


The Nature of Unicorns

by xtricks



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, F/M, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtricks/pseuds/xtricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones thought he knew everything and there's no such thing as unicorns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nature of Unicorns

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Whoinverse Porn Battle 8, 2011.  
> This is set in a 'BDSM Universe AU' where everyone is either a sub or a dom.

Ianto relished some chores; a silver tray, a single mug, a fan of biscuits on a plate. He loved the secret pleasure of perfection offered and accepted. In the evenings, sometimes Ianto offered Jack his dinner on his knees, naked, gagged and existing only to serve.

Mid-afternoon, when the sky was falling (just rain, for once) was the time for quiet reflection so he had the time to arrange Jack's afternoon coffee just so. With a quick check of his tie, Ianto picked up the tray and headed to Jack's office, a spring in his step.

When Ianto elbowed the door open it was to see Tosh's flushed face, her head tipped back, hand tangled in Jack's hair and his face planted firmly between her legs just below her rucked up skirt.

 _"Ah,"_ he said dumbly, the plate rattling on the tray in his hands. Jack's shoulders twitched but Tosh twisted her hand just so in his hair, holding him down (Ianto knew that hold intimately). Jack's hands were folded behind his back and his knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists but Ianto could hear – _god_ – the sound of him settling back to his task.

Tosh's face was pink flushed, unrepentant, as she glanced at Ianto. "Come back later," she said, voice husky and dark with a note he'd never heard from her before. Ianto locked his knees and clenched his jaw to keep from joining Jack on the floor at the tone.

"I – I'll come back … later," he echoed and turned like a robot, sweaty grip slipping on the door handle before he managed to shut it.

"There's a good boy," he heard Tosh say, as the door clicked shut.

The rush of heat had settled in Ianto's head like a fever and in his gut like resentment by the time he'd dumped Jack's coffee and retreated to his desk in the tourist centre. How could he possibly have been so utterly wrong? How could Jack do this to him?

"God," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. All of Owen's jibes rushed back to him, backed by the sudden truth he'd seen. _Part-time shag. Pathetic lap dog. Delusions of importance._

Jack had been lying to him all this time. The image of Jack on his knees submitting to Tosh rose up in Ianto's memory like sickness. He hadn't even known Tosh was dominant and how had she hidden _that_ from _him?_ He was supposed to know everything. _Pathetic._

By the time evening rolled around, Ianto was outraged enough to not care how humiliated he was. He checked his tie again, this time because he wasn't bout to face Jack less than perfectly turned out. The idea of facing down Jack felt impossible ... as impossible as resisting the Cybermen. As impossible as every day at Torchwood. Ianto squared his shoulders and pushed open the door without knocking.

Jack looked resigned, the crooked slant to his mouth tired. "Ianto," his voice tweaked that submissive impulse in Ianto, that inescapable urge to relax and yield. There was a tiny temptation to just ... forget what he'd seen. It was the thought of Owen's sour, superior face that made Ianto's resolve stiffen.

"So it was all _fake_ ," he said bitterly. "I knew you were a liar but --"

"No," Jack said sharply. "No, it's not fake."

"No? What, you were just _exploring?_ " Ianto sneered. The old college excuse, when everyone was still unsure and afraid of looking stupid. Everyone hoped they'd lead, most were wrong. "Testing the waters?"

"I was enjoying myself," Jack said calmly, he grinned. "Like you couldn't tell. Tosh said --"

"I don't care what Tosh said!" Ianto shouted, furiously. She known too -- he'd always imagined Tosh was his friend. He clenched his hands so hard his knuckles ached. _"Fuck_ her!"

Jack smiled snidely, anger darkening his eyes, "Only if she tells me to."

"I don't need you," Ianto said coldly, forcing his hands to relax, bottling the anger, along with everything else. Nothing new there. "I don't need some deceitful sub playing games and using me to avoid the truth. I'm not that desperate."

"And what _is_ the truth, Ianto?" Jack stood then. He circled the desk, and Ianto, like a shark, like he owned the world. Like he owned Ianto. "That you're so _incompetent_ a submissive you can't even tell a dominant when you're sucking their cock?"

"Christ --!" Ianto spun for the door, mouth watering like a pavlovian dog, and Jack pounced. They wrestled in savage silence, until Jack hooked two fingers in tie and twisted, cutting Ianto's breathing sharply off. It was so familiar that Ianto found himself shoved (familiarly) against the glass of Jack's office. The heavy lean of Jack's body crushed what little breath Ianto had left out of him, then the kick of Jack's boots at his heels made Ianto spread is legs despite himself.

"Look at you," Jack hissed, loosening his grip on Ianto's collar and talking over his whopping gasps. "Gagging for it. Think I'm just a sub now? Think you're that screwed up, that you can't tell?"

"Then what were you _doing?_ " Ianto wheezed, arching his back because Jack was right, dammit. Every instinct Ianto had dragged at him, as his oxygen starved vision cleared, all he wanted was to be on his knees begging Jack's forgiveness. He wanted to submit to the dominance he could feel in every inch of Jack's close pressed body.

Jack snorted, pushing away from Ianto, leaving him cold and shuddering. Looking over his shoulder, Ianto didn't know what was left in his face was pleading or resentment. He was full of both.

Jack propped his hands on his hips, grinning in toothy annoyance. "Ahh -- the 21st Century's little categories, so _quaint."_

"Fine," Ianto snapped, pressing his hands to the glass in front of his nose, condensation clouding it. "I'm a 21st Century caveman, explain it to me."

Jack shrugged, brows rising. "I should pass someone gorgeous up because they're a natural leader? _Or_ a follower?" He used the old-fashioned terms, words Ianto had only read in history books, as he swaggered over to Ianto, leaning close. "I like you on your knees, pretty boy, and I like the bite of the whip myself."

Ianto gave him a disbelieving look.

"I'm a _switch_ ," Jack said impatiently. "Surely you've heard of it."

"Don't be ridiculous, there's no such thing," Ianto said shot back. "That's a fantasy for lonely submissive sods looking to get off on."

With three of every four people in the world naturally submissive, dominants had their choice, and there were always plenty of subs left wanting. Pornographers and horny teenagers sold the old switch myth; Ianto had believed -- hoped -- it was true himself when he was younger. He and Lisa had pretended it was, that love would make it possible for them to build a relationship despite the both of them being submissive. Later, he'd clung to a different fantasy just as stubbornly -- that he could save Lisa when he'd known she'd died at Canary Wharf. He'd wanted to be strong enough for her and longed for someone to be strong for him. Someone like Jack. He'd thought. He'd _believed._

"It's just a fantasy," Ianto repeated, slowly. "Like St. Nick and unicorns."

"And aliens, right?" Jack quipped. "No one believes _they_ exist."

Ianto stared at Jack in helpless doubt.

Jack sighed, then leaned forward to give him a slow kiss. Ianto opened to him, fisting his hands in Jack's shirt and pressing tight to him as if he could erase the last day through sheer desperation.

"Kneel," Jack murmured against Ianto's mouth and he went down, the very softness in Jack's voice -- absent the usual command -- more compelling that the angriest shout. Jack unzipped, pulling out his lax cock. "Come here and suck."

Ianto leaned forward, nuzzling against the soft flesh. The feel of such vulnerability, Jack's cock soft and shy, throbbing warmly as Ianto licked made his throat ache with tenderness. He folded his hands behind his back, helplessly remembering Jack earlier, and sucked.

"Does this feel like a lie?" Jack murmured, combing his fingers through Ianto's hair, then tightening his grip. His cock was swelling and he flexed forward, forcing Ianto's face to his belly, mouth full.

"Ianto," He went on gently. "You're a lovely submissive, do you really believe you wouldn't be able to tell?"

Ianto could only moan, drool slicking his chin and, later, when Jack came, gripping Ianto's head and fucking his mouth hard enough to make his throat feel bruised, it had to be the truth. But, Tosh still visited Jack behind closed doors, and that seemed to be the truth too.

Two days later an old fashioned Torchwood storage box appeared on his desk. The dusty label marked it as from the 1950's, in Jack's handwriting. It took some work before Ianto could get the top off -- better than thinking about the fact that Tosh and Jack were in his office again, blinds down -- and the only thing inside was a white fragment about the length of his palm. It didn't look like a sex toy -- Jack's usual offering -- and Ianto picked it up to read the tag. The piece was fragmented at two ends, polished by age and had a lovely iridescent shimmer.

 **Location Found: Splot rummage sale August 2 1954. Risk: none. Identification: Organic fragment. _Jack says it's a unicorn horn, he says their usually invisible. Like I believe that. - T.J._**

Ianto looked up at Jack's office and tightened his grip on the bit of ivory and tried, desperately, to believe in unicorns.

END (51511)


End file.
